


It Might Have Been

by TameAVagrantLion



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, I Tried, I hope, Sansan Russian Roulette 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 21:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13579467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TameAVagrantLion/pseuds/TameAVagrantLion
Summary: "Tell me you love me".Short ficlet created for the Sansan Russian Roulette of 2018.





	It Might Have Been

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hashtagsalads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hashtagsalads/gifts), [Maroucia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maroucia/gifts).



> My entry for the 2018 Sansan Russian Roulette. Thanks Maroucia for organizing this beautiful event!  
> My prompt was: “Tell me you love me.” By hashtagsalads, they also said it would be better if it was angsty so hopefully this ticks all the boxes!

Sandor had no idea how or why he’d ended up in her bedchambers, but he had a pretty good guess. How? He’d probably drank his good sense away and decided to pay her a visit. Why? Because she drove him half mad with worry, and the other half with love. _Foolish old dog_.

But it was very hard to repent from his choices now that he was there, alone with her. In the dark he could barely make up her shape on the bed, and it was like a magnet to him, he could not help but come closer, desperate to see her better. Before he could realize it, he was by her side, and he watched her sleep for what seemed a lifetime. Except he wasn’t really seeing her, it was much too dark for that, but he could hear her even breathing, it was hypnotizing. _Sansa…_

Suddenly her breathing changed. Had he said that out loud? A faint ruffling of the bedsheets alerted him to her wakefulness. Was she looking at him? He could not tell. _Why is everything so damn hazy?_ He dared not move, or say a word for fear of frightening her, but surprisingly, she did not scream, she did not say anything. Perhaps she recognized him? Since when did she not fear him? The softest of touches grazed his hand, inviting. _This is not wise_. But her pull was almost gravitational, and he sunk into the bed, his head feeling heavy but his heart feeling light as a feather.

His arms, moving of their own accord, wrapped instantly around her. He waited for a rejection that never came. The warmth emitted by her soft skin was unlike anything he’d ever felt. Sandor wondered if the absolute darkness had heightened his remaining senses, for the silence was deafening, and it was unclear whether it was the alcohol or her sweet smell that was so intoxicating. He tried to stay awake, to savour the happiest moment of his cursed life, but his eyelids were suddenly heavier than cast iron.

He slowly turned his head towards Sansa, surprised by her silence. _Why is the little bird not chirping as usual? Perhaps she’s fallen asleep_. He was stunned to see he could perfectly make out her features even in the obscure room. Her bright eyes were looking straight into his. Their Tully blue had an unnatural shine of its own. Sandor’s breath caught in his chest, they were so close. His entire being was aching to close the space between them, but he couldn’t move. Ever so slowly, Sansa’s hand lifted from her left side and landed on his cheek. Sandor closed his eyes. He felt dizzier by the second. He could feel his consciousness slowly drifting away.

And then, an intake of breath. A whispered request. Words that resounded through his entire being.

“ _Tell me you love me_ ”

Her tone was sweet and gentle, almost playful. He opened his eyes again but she’d disappeared. There was nothing but darkness. Sandor wanted to say it, to shout it, he wanted to tell her he loved her and that he was sorry he could not save her, but when he opened his mouth no sound came out.

_“Tell me you love me”_

Her voice again, but this time it was different, pleading, and it sounded far away, as if spoken from another room. _Sansa!_ he tried to call for her, but his body was not responding, and his head was spinning painfully.

_“Hello?”_

A voice that was not her. Sandor did not understand.

“Hello there.”

His eyes shot open. He noticed the clear, sharp tang of reality.

A hard mattress, a blurry face, and a pounding headache were the first things he noticed. _Where’s Sansa?_ Was the first thing he thought.

“Don’t move, please.” The same voice said. “You’ve been asleep for quite some time.”

The man’s face disappeared from Sandor’s view, so he craned his neck to see him sitting on a stool and pouring some water from a jug into a hollow bowl. Bad decision, the wound on his neck sent a sharp bolt of pain through his head at the movement. Sandor tried to speak, but the result was more of a growl.

“Who the fuck are you?”, he said. The man turned to look at him. His face was calm and jovial, but his white hair revealed he was older than he looked. He was wearing a light tunic that he recognized as a septon’s attire.

“I’m the Elder Brother, and you’re on the Quiet Isle, a place for penitents who seek to atone for their sins through contemplation, prayer, and silence.”

Sandor groaned again.

“Not what you were expecting?” He chuckled heartily. “I think you’ll fit in nicely here, for the time being”, he said.

The Elder Brother then handed Sandor the bowl, and thirsty as he was, he drank the water in one big gulp, only to recognize afterwards the signature taste of the milk of the poppy sedative.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back with some bandages and ointment for that nasty wound of yours”. Said the older man and promptly left the precarious mud house.

Sandor set the bowl down and stared at the low ceiling. The dream still vivid in his mind, he could see her eyes clearly imprinted in his memory. How beautiful she had looked, just as he remembered.

_Tell me you love me._

Her words had seemed so real, but he knew he was not meant to hear them in his life. A tear rolled down the side of his face and got lost in the rough hay pillow just as the Elder Brother re-entered the room. If he noticed, he was kind enough not to say anything.

As the medicine started to take effect, his last waking thought was dedicated to her.

_I love you, Sansa_.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Kurt Vonnegut's quote: “Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, "It might have been.”
> 
> What did you think?


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